A contemporary story with a large cast of characters offering a snapshot of life in a small community in West Wales.
Once her son and daughter have left home for university and their own independent lives, Georgia's marriage to Greg folds undramatically. Newly divorced, she leaves behind her old life in congested Birmingham for the wild beauty of a Welsh coastal village. She has landed an excellent job and soon becomes involved with her work colleagues and the strained relationships of her new position, although making personal friends proves a slow process. During a shopping expedition to the larger centre of Aberystwyth, Georgia meets the owner of a furniture shop who makes a strong impression on her, being infuriating and charming in equal measure. The classic premise for most romcoms. However, the author drops the romantic thread and, instead, takes the reader into a complex series of new storylines involving Georgia's new social circle, when she decides to join the Bronbeg amateur theatrical group.
Once her son and daughter have left home for university and their own independent lives, Georgia's marriage to Greg folds undramatically. Newly divorced, she leaves behind her old life in congested Birmingham for the wild beauty of a Welsh coastal village. She has landed an excellent job and soon becomes involved with her work colleagues and the strained relationships of her new position, although making personal friends proves a slow process. During a shopping expedition to the larger centre of Aberystwyth, Georgia meets the owner of a furniture shop who makes a strong impression on her, being infuriating and charming in equal measure. The classic premise for most romcoms. However, the author drops the romantic thread and, instead, takes the reader into a complex series of new storylines involving Georgia's new social circle, when she decides to join the Bronbeg amateur theatrical group.
Sea Green has some slow patches, but I found it charming and when the action gets going at the half-way mark, it become very engaging. It is pleasant to hear a fresh and different voice. Alice Smithers is not afraid to craft sentences where the subject changes midstream, or the verb is left out, or a word is used in a novel context, challenging the reader to pay attention and follow the sometimes sparse and quirky style.
Characterization is good but I would have preferred a little more early detail to flesh out the protagonists at least. I find it difficult to sympathize with them and share their feelings when the main characters are barely sketched out. It takes a third of the book to define the heroine in a way that makes sense to me. However, the device allows the author to surprise us with the evolution of some characters who turn out to be very different from how they appear at the outset. The full spectrum of human traits is explored, including a particularly unsavoury personality, and a lot of petty and vainglorious behaviour which makes for some hilarious situations.
The dialogue is realistic and relevant and the story is advanced by the omniscient narrator. This allows us to follow each character and penetrate their thoughts although I found Georgia a bit too bland and “vanilla”; some of the minor players have more spark even if slightly typecast. There is also an occasional lack of continuity as the author struggles to keep all the plates spinning. Despite some minor stylistic faults, Sea Green is an engaging read and I found myself looking forward to the next instalment. There is a key scenario which I, personally, find difficult to accept and this false note takes me out of the story a little. Others may disagree. The book contains no unpleasant elements, violence or graphic sex, although there is a fair bit of naughty behaviour and, my word, do these people like to drink!
An intelligent story with a satisfying conclusion, which I very much enjoyed reading. I particularly liked the message that life can be exciting regardless of your age, and there was a bit of the generational role-reversal that fans of “Absolutely Fabulous” will appreciate. A very solid first novel.
Characterization is good but I would have preferred a little more early detail to flesh out the protagonists at least. I find it difficult to sympathize with them and share their feelings when the main characters are barely sketched out. It takes a third of the book to define the heroine in a way that makes sense to me. However, the device allows the author to surprise us with the evolution of some characters who turn out to be very different from how they appear at the outset. The full spectrum of human traits is explored, including a particularly unsavoury personality, and a lot of petty and vainglorious behaviour which makes for some hilarious situations.
The dialogue is realistic and relevant and the story is advanced by the omniscient narrator. This allows us to follow each character and penetrate their thoughts although I found Georgia a bit too bland and “vanilla”; some of the minor players have more spark even if slightly typecast. There is also an occasional lack of continuity as the author struggles to keep all the plates spinning. Despite some minor stylistic faults, Sea Green is an engaging read and I found myself looking forward to the next instalment. There is a key scenario which I, personally, find difficult to accept and this false note takes me out of the story a little. Others may disagree. The book contains no unpleasant elements, violence or graphic sex, although there is a fair bit of naughty behaviour and, my word, do these people like to drink!
An intelligent story with a satisfying conclusion, which I very much enjoyed reading. I particularly liked the message that life can be exciting regardless of your age, and there was a bit of the generational role-reversal that fans of “Absolutely Fabulous” will appreciate. A very solid first novel.
Henry Radcliff, our hapless hero, is on the verge of turning 40 and every nerve in his body screams blue murder at the prospect of reaching this milestone which he sees as a cresting of the hill with nothing to look forward to but a sad, inevitable decline. Henry's life is currently exciting but unsettled. He has just married Steph, a gorgeous, smart, successful corporate lawyer, and her recent big promotion has meant a move to New York. As the global credit crisis has affected his own career, the decision to uproot is an easy one. Steph's friends are all getting pregnant, and she, too, wants to make a start on her dream of having three children, but Henry is not so sure, in fact, he is terrified. He must deal with his deep misgivings about becoming a father and confront the demons of his childhood.
The story flows easily and is told through entries in Henry's diary. We get to follow him, Steph and their small circle of family and friends on an almost daily basis. The author does a very good job of maintaining the narrator's point of view consistent and plausible, while giving insights into the thinking and feelings of the people in his life.
The story flows easily and is told through entries in Henry's diary. We get to follow him, Steph and their small circle of family and friends on an almost daily basis. The author does a very good job of maintaining the narrator's point of view consistent and plausible, while giving insights into the thinking and feelings of the people in his life.
The madcap, irreverent humour is enjoyable, and there are many moments of high comedy but sometimes the effort showed and I felt the author was trying a bit too hard to be funny all the time, which is a nearly impossible task when writing a book. In fact, I found the more serious, more heart-felt passages very effective. They held my interest and connected with my emotions. The jokes work best when they are counterpoints to the slightly absurd reality that we all struggle with.
I admired the honesty that comes through the pages, even when admitting one's innermost thoughts makes us look flawed and less than “good”. The lesson here is that life is never fair and we have to live with that. One snippet of philosophic acceptance comes via one of the older characters who often states that, “We cannot change what happened, only what happens” giving power back to the individual, just at the point where we feel victims of circumstances.
Characterization is excellent. The main protagonists are sometimes silly and annoying, just like real people, but their hearts are in the right place and I sympathized with them most of the time. The complexities of family relationships are explored with honesty and a refreshing lack of moralizing. Love is the motivator and the common thread that weaves through the whole narrative, even when it turns into a negative emotion, as in “not enough love”.
Henry Radcliff has undeniable comedic talent. He sees the ridiculous and the ludicrous in everyday life and takes pleasure in peeling back the layers of pretension like onion skins, but that dangerous exercise is well known for producing tears and Henry's soul weeps as often as not. The family tragedy that wrecked his childhood reaches out into his adult life and threatens to ruin his marriage and everything else. Henry is well aware of the problem but seems unable to find a solution. Aside from the universal truths, this story should appeal to any man who is ambivalent about procreating, or just anyone who has been baffled by the inner workings of the female mind.
I admired the honesty that comes through the pages, even when admitting one's innermost thoughts makes us look flawed and less than “good”. The lesson here is that life is never fair and we have to live with that. One snippet of philosophic acceptance comes via one of the older characters who often states that, “We cannot change what happened, only what happens” giving power back to the individual, just at the point where we feel victims of circumstances.
Characterization is excellent. The main protagonists are sometimes silly and annoying, just like real people, but their hearts are in the right place and I sympathized with them most of the time. The complexities of family relationships are explored with honesty and a refreshing lack of moralizing. Love is the motivator and the common thread that weaves through the whole narrative, even when it turns into a negative emotion, as in “not enough love”.
Henry Radcliff has undeniable comedic talent. He sees the ridiculous and the ludicrous in everyday life and takes pleasure in peeling back the layers of pretension like onion skins, but that dangerous exercise is well known for producing tears and Henry's soul weeps as often as not. The family tragedy that wrecked his childhood reaches out into his adult life and threatens to ruin his marriage and everything else. Henry is well aware of the problem but seems unable to find a solution. Aside from the universal truths, this story should appeal to any man who is ambivalent about procreating, or just anyone who has been baffled by the inner workings of the female mind.
I’m a bit conflicted about this book. I found the concept captivating but was disappointed by the execution. Through complex world building we are gradually introduced to a well-structured replica of earthly corruption and power games in a heavenly dimension where cupids are trained for combat against the fear demons who inhabit humans, causing love to die. Each and every character flaw which hinders true love is personified as a specific fear demon, or yetzer, so we have Blame Demons, Fault-Finding Demons, Clueless Demons, and so on. The army of cupids is tasked with the preservation and promotion of human love, which involves slaying the fear demons and making matches.
Characterization of the main players is well done. Kohai, the physically wimpy but spiritually gifted cadet, handpicked as the next truth-bearer, is a sympathetic character who grows convincingly in both personal confidence and influence throughout the story. The action is seen through his eyes, except in the scenes where he is not present, but the author provides an elegant solution to the limitations of the first-person narrator. His best friend, Virgil, and his mentors, Captain Cyril and Captain Volk, come into their own in the latter part of the book, while the much-vaunted Swerver character fizzles away disappointingly, her pivotal research degenerating into juvenile banter, and her personality never more than one-dimensional and tepidly unremarkable.
I enjoyed the insightful biting satire which ruthlessly exposes the many ways in which people deceive themselves, as well as society’s fixation with celebrities. The many references to Judaic religious and historical tenets were interesting, and there’s nothing wrong with the philosophical discourse, but the action bogs down in a morass of heavy-handed religious preaching which ruined the book for me. That, and the fact that the story ends abruptly in a rather obvious cliffhanger.
Characterization of the main players is well done. Kohai, the physically wimpy but spiritually gifted cadet, handpicked as the next truth-bearer, is a sympathetic character who grows convincingly in both personal confidence and influence throughout the story. The action is seen through his eyes, except in the scenes where he is not present, but the author provides an elegant solution to the limitations of the first-person narrator. His best friend, Virgil, and his mentors, Captain Cyril and Captain Volk, come into their own in the latter part of the book, while the much-vaunted Swerver character fizzles away disappointingly, her pivotal research degenerating into juvenile banter, and her personality never more than one-dimensional and tepidly unremarkable.
I enjoyed the insightful biting satire which ruthlessly exposes the many ways in which people deceive themselves, as well as society’s fixation with celebrities. The many references to Judaic religious and historical tenets were interesting, and there’s nothing wrong with the philosophical discourse, but the action bogs down in a morass of heavy-handed religious preaching which ruined the book for me. That, and the fact that the story ends abruptly in a rather obvious cliffhanger.
Having read “The Cuckoos of Batch Magna” earlier this year, I thought the sequel would have a job coming up to the very high standard already set. Well, I was pleasantly surprised right from the start. Despite the time interval, it was like I had never left the magical world of Batch Magna with its charmingly quirky characters and the sunny, lazy days of an endless summer.
The action takes up just where the previous book left off and the tone, pacing and particular flavour are exactly the same, which is, in itself, a rare accomplishment. If anything, Peter Maughan has become even more confirmed in his unique style, mastering the material so fully that reading these delightful stories feels like sitting in a riverside pub, listening to a friend tell the tale. To give a rough idea of the style, I could mention All Creatures Great and Small, Buds of May, To the Manor Born and such, but it would really do the Batch Magna books an injustice because Maughan paints with a much finer brush and a richer palette, bringing to life a large number of deliciously amusing characters that immediately feel like people we know, or would want to know.
The narrative begins on the morning of the wedding day of Sir Humphrey (“call me Humph”) and the Honourable Clementine Wroxley (Clem to her many friends). The unpredictable summer weather has brought rain, or as we are told much more pictorially, “a sudden high downpour off the mountains, crossing the border like an invasion, swept in on Welsh winds.” However, in true Marches fashion, the sun reasserts itself just in time and a wonderful day is had by all.
The action takes up just where the previous book left off and the tone, pacing and particular flavour are exactly the same, which is, in itself, a rare accomplishment. If anything, Peter Maughan has become even more confirmed in his unique style, mastering the material so fully that reading these delightful stories feels like sitting in a riverside pub, listening to a friend tell the tale. To give a rough idea of the style, I could mention All Creatures Great and Small, Buds of May, To the Manor Born and such, but it would really do the Batch Magna books an injustice because Maughan paints with a much finer brush and a richer palette, bringing to life a large number of deliciously amusing characters that immediately feel like people we know, or would want to know.
The narrative begins on the morning of the wedding day of Sir Humphrey (“call me Humph”) and the Honourable Clementine Wroxley (Clem to her many friends). The unpredictable summer weather has brought rain, or as we are told much more pictorially, “a sudden high downpour off the mountains, crossing the border like an invasion, swept in on Welsh winds.” However, in true Marches fashion, the sun reasserts itself just in time and a wonderful day is had by all.
A
seemingly insignificant event after the ceremony, common to so many
other weddings, will play a pivotal role toward the end of the
narrative, but for now we are plunged into a bucolic scene of such
charm that I found myself remembering with fondness the closest I ever
came to partaking of such an event, Badminton Horse Trials 1994.
Having followed the motley crew of Batch Magna's regulars through two full books (plus, as a most welcome unexpected extra to this one, the seven chapters of a separate story called, The Famous Cricket Match), I still have trouble deciding who is my favourite. They are all so appealingly human, so foible-ridden and likeable, that it really doesn't matter. I just love hearing about them and sharing their adventures, big or small, happy or sad. There is a plenty of action and plot twists, and a bit more stark realism in this sequel, which showcases the author's deft touch in illuminating human nature in all its fascinating nuances. Add to this his particular talent for bringing magic to the commonplace and cloaking in wonder seasonal changes that too often go unnoticed and you have a complete work which satisfies on so many levels.
It takes a sure hand to make a debauched character like Phineas Cook the loveable scoundrel we all hope will eventually mend his ways - but not too much. Or the discovery that his son, Daniel, is not quite the studious, reliable youngster he first appeared, something to cheer about. And who else could make a glass eye so intriguing, and the lamentable excesses of those who rashly overindulge in pints of Sheepsnout so amazingly funny?
I find it difficult to describe what makes this so enjoyable, but if you liked the first book, or even the excerpt available in the “Look Inside”, you will most definitely love this whole book because it is solidly built and full of gentle humour and lyrical observation of country life in that magical never-never dimension between land and river, England and Wales, reality and wishful thinking. The sign of excellent writing for me is that I, as indifferent to sport as anyone of my gender and completely ignorant of the rudiments of the game, actually found The Famous Cricket Match gripping and sat up reading to the end well after my usual bedtime. These are books that I could easily see myself reading again. I can hardly wait for the next instalment.
Having followed the motley crew of Batch Magna's regulars through two full books (plus, as a most welcome unexpected extra to this one, the seven chapters of a separate story called, The Famous Cricket Match), I still have trouble deciding who is my favourite. They are all so appealingly human, so foible-ridden and likeable, that it really doesn't matter. I just love hearing about them and sharing their adventures, big or small, happy or sad. There is a plenty of action and plot twists, and a bit more stark realism in this sequel, which showcases the author's deft touch in illuminating human nature in all its fascinating nuances. Add to this his particular talent for bringing magic to the commonplace and cloaking in wonder seasonal changes that too often go unnoticed and you have a complete work which satisfies on so many levels.
It takes a sure hand to make a debauched character like Phineas Cook the loveable scoundrel we all hope will eventually mend his ways - but not too much. Or the discovery that his son, Daniel, is not quite the studious, reliable youngster he first appeared, something to cheer about. And who else could make a glass eye so intriguing, and the lamentable excesses of those who rashly overindulge in pints of Sheepsnout so amazingly funny?
I find it difficult to describe what makes this so enjoyable, but if you liked the first book, or even the excerpt available in the “Look Inside”, you will most definitely love this whole book because it is solidly built and full of gentle humour and lyrical observation of country life in that magical never-never dimension between land and river, England and Wales, reality and wishful thinking. The sign of excellent writing for me is that I, as indifferent to sport as anyone of my gender and completely ignorant of the rudiments of the game, actually found The Famous Cricket Match gripping and sat up reading to the end well after my usual bedtime. These are books that I could easily see myself reading again. I can hardly wait for the next instalment.
This book was left behind by a summer house-guest who could not be bothered to finish it and did not rate it enough to give it luggage room. Given this inauspicious introduction, I started reading it out of curiosity and because I can seldom resist reading any book.
The author of this autobiographical account is recovering from a debilitating illness which derailed his young adulthood and left him physically weak and emotionally vulnerable. In this precarious mental state, he conceives the idea of celebrating his recovery with a solo journey inspired by Paul Gallico's book “The Snow Goose” which had a profound impact on his young mind. So Fiennes sets off to follow the migration of snow geese from their winter quarters in Southern Texas all the way to their summer breeding grounds near the Hudson Bay in Canada.
The resulting book is part travelogue, part scientific treatise on the migratory habits of birds and of this particular species of snow goose, and also a personal insight into the wider question of “homesickness” in humans.
The author of this autobiographical account is recovering from a debilitating illness which derailed his young adulthood and left him physically weak and emotionally vulnerable. In this precarious mental state, he conceives the idea of celebrating his recovery with a solo journey inspired by Paul Gallico's book “The Snow Goose” which had a profound impact on his young mind. So Fiennes sets off to follow the migration of snow geese from their winter quarters in Southern Texas all the way to their summer breeding grounds near the Hudson Bay in Canada.
The resulting book is part travelogue, part scientific treatise on the migratory habits of birds and of this particular species of snow goose, and also a personal insight into the wider question of “homesickness” in humans.
I am rather on the fence about it. I enjoyed parts of it immensely but found other parts overblown. There is no question in my mind that Fiennes can write beautifully; some of his turns of phrase are refreshingly novel and he is able to describe passing characters in delightful and insightful detail with just a few words. His descriptions of locations and of the snow geese en masse can be lyrically poetic and his spiritual journey has a certain pathos. I felt he dealt with what must have been a pretty fundamental psychological crisis with both restraint and a diffident common touch.
However, I think that Fiennes is less than successful in weaving all those themes together into a cohesive narrative and got rather lost into some lengthy scientific dissertations which are interesting up to a point but often leave you wondering what this is all leading up to. Also from a self-confessed animal lover's viewpoint, his observation of the geese is curiously detached and the frequent changes in narrative tone left me perplexed. The end seemed rather sudden and, although I got pleasantly lost in some of the travelogue aspects, it is not a book I would wish to read again very soon.
However, I think that Fiennes is less than successful in weaving all those themes together into a cohesive narrative and got rather lost into some lengthy scientific dissertations which are interesting up to a point but often leave you wondering what this is all leading up to. Also from a self-confessed animal lover's viewpoint, his observation of the geese is curiously detached and the frequent changes in narrative tone left me perplexed. The end seemed rather sudden and, although I got pleasantly lost in some of the travelogue aspects, it is not a book I would wish to read again very soon.
An enjoyable story, full of suspense and suitable for absolutely everyone. A writer, driving her RV on a book-signing tour, stops for lunch in a lonely spot along the way. She has just made friends with a hungry, sorry-looking border collie when a man approaches her wielding a hammer. The dog immediately threatens to attack and scares off the intruder.
Our heroine is travelling with her cat, Charlie, but she cannot bring herself to leave behind the brave little stray who saved her life. Her terrifying encounter is one of a string of similar incidents and she soon finds herself having frequent dealings with the local police and, later, a specialized detective assigned to her case. It soon becomes clear that the thug who is terrorizing the area has a special interest in our heroine and she finds herself in constant danger.
The story is narrated by the protagonist, a device which always guarantees immediacy and draws the reader up-close into the action. The narration moves along at a steady, lively pace and the author does a great job of keeping the reader fully in the picture so that we have every chance to solve the mystery alongside the detectives.
Our heroine is travelling with her cat, Charlie, but she cannot bring herself to leave behind the brave little stray who saved her life. Her terrifying encounter is one of a string of similar incidents and she soon finds herself having frequent dealings with the local police and, later, a specialized detective assigned to her case. It soon becomes clear that the thug who is terrorizing the area has a special interest in our heroine and she finds herself in constant danger.
The story is narrated by the protagonist, a device which always guarantees immediacy and draws the reader up-close into the action. The narration moves along at a steady, lively pace and the author does a great job of keeping the reader fully in the picture so that we have every chance to solve the mystery alongside the detectives.
With this book, I have to remind myself that reviews are opinions. Since I'm in a minority here, I'll try to explain why, so you can make up your own mind. This is a mixed bag of short stories connected by a main storyline. The premise is a reworking of a familiar theme: two strangers, trapped at close quarters in a life-threatening situation, are drawn together by their plight while waiting to be rescued.
Julie is driving home in a snow blizzard. Trying to avoid a man in her path, her car spins on the icy road and into a snow bank. The man has a bleeding head wound so Julie takes him into her car, and the two try to keep each warm until they are found and rescued. To keep the man from going to sleep and to distract themselves from the very real possibility of freezing to death, they trade stories.
Julie is driving home in a snow blizzard. Trying to avoid a man in her path, her car spins on the icy road and into a snow bank. The man has a bleeding head wound so Julie takes him into her car, and the two try to keep each warm until they are found and rescued. To keep the man from going to sleep and to distract themselves from the very real possibility of freezing to death, they trade stories.
The short story is a very difficult medium, which many readers don't care for. I love short stories, but I did not enjoy this book. The two protagonists are likeable enough, although I felt Julie was too bland and dull to really hold my attention. Peter had a much more suspenseful aura, a heartbroken past, and a more soulful personality.
The thirteen short stories varied in style, some were very brief, sketches really, and I found most boring and pointless. A couple are attempts at black humour, but fall flat. The best ones deal with the universal themes of ageing and mental decline. There are many plot devices so far-fetched that they took me out of the narrative (I will not discuss them because they would be spoilers). The dialogue is a bit clunky, character development is superficial to almost non-existent. Such poor material would need to be lifted by superb storytelling and an engaging style. I did not detect either. Out of the whole book, there is not a single passage that stayed with me.
The general tone was flat and dreary, with a total lack of humour or emotion. The ending was disappointing and unconvincing. So, in summary, a capable enough writing effort, but lacking soul and that special magic that draws me into other short stories.
The thirteen short stories varied in style, some were very brief, sketches really, and I found most boring and pointless. A couple are attempts at black humour, but fall flat. The best ones deal with the universal themes of ageing and mental decline. There are many plot devices so far-fetched that they took me out of the narrative (I will not discuss them because they would be spoilers). The dialogue is a bit clunky, character development is superficial to almost non-existent. Such poor material would need to be lifted by superb storytelling and an engaging style. I did not detect either. Out of the whole book, there is not a single passage that stayed with me.
The general tone was flat and dreary, with a total lack of humour or emotion. The ending was disappointing and unconvincing. So, in summary, a capable enough writing effort, but lacking soul and that special magic that draws me into other short stories.
Her brother, Crispin, is on his way to join her for a 2-week stay but the train he's on derails and a badly-sprained ankle keeps him in hospital for a week. Rose takes advantage of her forced isolation to work hard on both her poetry (muse-dependent) and her lucrative science fiction series. One wild night she finds an attractive stranger taking refuge from the storm in her kitchen, while a second young man also begs for shelter from the weather. Rose is wary but can hardly refuse. Very soon she becomes enmeshed in the mystery of the Big House left empty by the death of the well-liked Mrs. Hamilton, while she's trying to discover the truth about the two men, both of whom are not what they seem.
The pace is steady but more leisurely than current fashion dictates. I love Mary Stewart's ability to transport me to her chosen location, and her deep love for the Highlands of Scotland shines in the measured prose. I am familiar with the places she describes, they truly are mesmerizing and like nowhere else I've ever been. This is a rather short book for her (only surpassed by the novella The Wind in the Small Isles, which I consider under-developed), and it certainly lacks the sharp edges and relentless pace of her earlier work, but I found it interesting all the same because of the glimpses into her writing process. As ever, her characters and dialogue are convincingly real, and as developed as the narrative requires.
The story is disappointing, ultimately, as there is no romance whatsoever, only a hint at the end about further developments. Also the mystery element is marginal. If you read Mary Stewart for the exquisite blend of suspense and romance of the early work, you may find this novel wanting. The great storytelling is still here but with maturity dulling the edge. I'm glad I read it once but it's probably the least likely of her books that I would want to read again.
The pace is steady but more leisurely than current fashion dictates. I love Mary Stewart's ability to transport me to her chosen location, and her deep love for the Highlands of Scotland shines in the measured prose. I am familiar with the places she describes, they truly are mesmerizing and like nowhere else I've ever been. This is a rather short book for her (only surpassed by the novella The Wind in the Small Isles, which I consider under-developed), and it certainly lacks the sharp edges and relentless pace of her earlier work, but I found it interesting all the same because of the glimpses into her writing process. As ever, her characters and dialogue are convincingly real, and as developed as the narrative requires.
The story is disappointing, ultimately, as there is no romance whatsoever, only a hint at the end about further developments. Also the mystery element is marginal. If you read Mary Stewart for the exquisite blend of suspense and romance of the early work, you may find this novel wanting. The great storytelling is still here but with maturity dulling the edge. I'm glad I read it once but it's probably the least likely of her books that I would want to read again.
A fairy tale for adults with enough ambiguity to keep me guessing all the way to the end. Robert is a psychologist who specializes in dream interpretation. On the surface he has a great life: luxurious house in a nice Chicago suburb, expensive cars, thriving practice. He has published a string of erudite books on his specialist subject of dreams, and even one of his patients has written her own book on dreams, drawing inspiration from their psychoanalytical sessions together. Holiday photos around his office show a happy family: Robert with Gail, his beautiful wife, and their boy, Jason.
Yet, under the thin veneer of a successful career and normal family life, deep cracks are showing. Gail has laboured in the grip of a stubborn depression for too long and, although medicated and married to the right kind of doctor, she is approaching breaking point. Ten-year old Jason still believes in imaginary friends, invisible little people who live in a Munchkin city under the house's floorboards. Robert, himself the scarred survivor of child abuse at the hands of his overly-strict father, is keenly aware of the problems but isn't sure how to fix them. When his mother summons him to the hospital, where his father is lying in a coma, Robert's nightmare begins.
Yet, under the thin veneer of a successful career and normal family life, deep cracks are showing. Gail has laboured in the grip of a stubborn depression for too long and, although medicated and married to the right kind of doctor, she is approaching breaking point. Ten-year old Jason still believes in imaginary friends, invisible little people who live in a Munchkin city under the house's floorboards. Robert, himself the scarred survivor of child abuse at the hands of his overly-strict father, is keenly aware of the problems but isn't sure how to fix them. When his mother summons him to the hospital, where his father is lying in a coma, Robert's nightmare begins.
He's caught in a dream within a dream and, by the end of the book, the very foundation of his life has been ripped away, and he has to rebuild his whole reality out of the misty shreds of imagined events that seem, at times, more real than his mundane routine.
This story fascinated me from the start. It's intelligently written, fast-paced and yet deep and meaningful. The dialogue is lively and convincing, the characters full of nuances, and a fascinating blend of surface normality and strong individualism. Dermot Davis has a special way with characters: he offers almost no guidance, leaving the reader to imagine the physical appearance of even his main protagonists, then builds up their singular traits by way of flashbacks and present day action. Alison and Miss Blessing were lightly sketched but probably my favourites, along with poor Robert himself. Throughout the story, jazz and the healing power of music run like shiny threads that embellish the plainest fabric. The conclusion appealed to me, and beautifully rounded off a story that made me reflect on every aspect of my life.
This story fascinated me from the start. It's intelligently written, fast-paced and yet deep and meaningful. The dialogue is lively and convincing, the characters full of nuances, and a fascinating blend of surface normality and strong individualism. Dermot Davis has a special way with characters: he offers almost no guidance, leaving the reader to imagine the physical appearance of even his main protagonists, then builds up their singular traits by way of flashbacks and present day action. Alison and Miss Blessing were lightly sketched but probably my favourites, along with poor Robert himself. Throughout the story, jazz and the healing power of music run like shiny threads that embellish the plainest fabric. The conclusion appealed to me, and beautifully rounded off a story that made me reflect on every aspect of my life.
Clearly, Alison Morton is as much a reckless risk-taker as her main character, Carina Mitela, as I will explain.
In Book 3 of the Roma Nova series, the author again unleashes non-stop action galloping on the shifting sands of delicately balanced relationships and expedient loyalties. A new character explodes on the scene, toppling the careful order of Roma Nova society and chain of command with a deadly domino effect that spares no-one. She is a young female operative, trained by UK special forces, whose impressive proficiency and single-minded focus almost mirror Carina's own. However, her driving motivation is not defensive but destructively offensive and, like the legendary Trojan horse, she penetrates Conrad's and Carina's successful world, and opens a Pandora's box of guilt and repressed childhood trauma that turns powerful individuals into mere puppets in her carefully-plotted mayhem.
Now about the risk-taking: after creating one of the most fascinating heroes in my recent memory in book one, and shamefully marginalizing him in book two, the author now proceeds to dismantle the mystique piece by piece, leading us to wonder whether Conradus has not, in fact, gone mad. It seems incredible that someone in such a crucially important position can behave so irrationally without consequences and, indeed, when he finally steps over the line, the Imperatrix's retribution is swift and merciless.
In Book 3 of the Roma Nova series, the author again unleashes non-stop action galloping on the shifting sands of delicately balanced relationships and expedient loyalties. A new character explodes on the scene, toppling the careful order of Roma Nova society and chain of command with a deadly domino effect that spares no-one. She is a young female operative, trained by UK special forces, whose impressive proficiency and single-minded focus almost mirror Carina's own. However, her driving motivation is not defensive but destructively offensive and, like the legendary Trojan horse, she penetrates Conrad's and Carina's successful world, and opens a Pandora's box of guilt and repressed childhood trauma that turns powerful individuals into mere puppets in her carefully-plotted mayhem.
Now about the risk-taking: after creating one of the most fascinating heroes in my recent memory in book one, and shamefully marginalizing him in book two, the author now proceeds to dismantle the mystique piece by piece, leading us to wonder whether Conradus has not, in fact, gone mad. It seems incredible that someone in such a crucially important position can behave so irrationally without consequences and, indeed, when he finally steps over the line, the Imperatrix's retribution is swift and merciless.
Carina, for her part, having lost her most precious supporting influences, starts to crack under pressure. No longer the formidable (and perhaps too super-human) heroine of many risky undercover operations, she is now at her most vulnerable, a distraught mother and wife, torn between her devotion to the highly responsible position of Head of Training and Personnel (with the rank of Lieutenant Colonel) and her tender family bonds.
I read through this thrilling sequel with a mixture of fascinated horror and impotent frustration at how ridiculously some of the characters behaved. However, it all makes for a very lively read with the constant anticipation of a staggering revelation that will make sense of all the inconsistencies.
For me this is not an ideal stand-alone book, and I would strongly advise anyone considering it to start instead at the beginning with INCEPTIO, and carry on with the equally brilliant PERFIDITAS, to get the full thrill of the evolving saga. The author excels at keeping a large cast under control, with vivid characterisation and exciting developments defining their personalities much more interestingly than just passive description. However, in this book, I feel the balance has tipped a little too much in favour of non-stop action and the characters' believability has suffered as a result. It's a personal minor criticism and in no way does this detract from the book's overall quality. After all, I don't mind a little suspension of belief in exchange for the highly-charged events that drive the storyline. The ending was a little abrupt and I would have preferred to say goodbye a bit more leisurely to some of the characters that had become so familiar over the course of three books and nearly a thousand pages.
So, well done, Alison Morton, for entertaining me on the edge of my seat for so long, but I could have used a fuller winding up of this fascinating saga. A final word should be said about the cinematic quality of the action scenes, especially the old castle sequence, which will remain in my mind as though I had watched it on film. In fact, as I said before, this whole trilogy is first-class movie material and, in the right hands, would adapt brilliantly.
I read through this thrilling sequel with a mixture of fascinated horror and impotent frustration at how ridiculously some of the characters behaved. However, it all makes for a very lively read with the constant anticipation of a staggering revelation that will make sense of all the inconsistencies.
For me this is not an ideal stand-alone book, and I would strongly advise anyone considering it to start instead at the beginning with INCEPTIO, and carry on with the equally brilliant PERFIDITAS, to get the full thrill of the evolving saga. The author excels at keeping a large cast under control, with vivid characterisation and exciting developments defining their personalities much more interestingly than just passive description. However, in this book, I feel the balance has tipped a little too much in favour of non-stop action and the characters' believability has suffered as a result. It's a personal minor criticism and in no way does this detract from the book's overall quality. After all, I don't mind a little suspension of belief in exchange for the highly-charged events that drive the storyline. The ending was a little abrupt and I would have preferred to say goodbye a bit more leisurely to some of the characters that had become so familiar over the course of three books and nearly a thousand pages.
So, well done, Alison Morton, for entertaining me on the edge of my seat for so long, but I could have used a fuller winding up of this fascinating saga. A final word should be said about the cinematic quality of the action scenes, especially the old castle sequence, which will remain in my mind as though I had watched it on film. In fact, as I said before, this whole trilogy is first-class movie material and, in the right hands, would adapt brilliantly.